


Filibert the Brave

by missingnolovefic



Series: Anniversary Celebration Prompts [7]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Based On a D&D Game, Character Death, Dungeons & Dragons 5th Edition, Forgotten Realms - Freeform, Gen, Horror, Minor Character Death, Monsters, Shambling Mound, Survival Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-11 21:00:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18432017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missingnolovefic/pseuds/missingnolovefic
Summary: It's Fil's turn to keep watch. In a marsh named for its deadliness, what could go wrong?





	Filibert the Brave

**Author's Note:**

> Two more fills for the celebration, now that I've passed my recent exam! *throws confetti*
> 
> This one is for Nigel, my DM, who asked me to write the story of how my DnD character's older brother Filibert encountered a [Shambling Mound](https://forgottenrealms.fandom.com/wiki/Shambling_mound), a man-eating plant monster. Our campaign is set in the Forgotten Realms, and Ned & Fil are from Waterdeep. The Mere of Dead Men lies a relatively short travel North from there.

Filibert flinched at the smallest noise, but it was Dalton, drunkenly stumbling over his own bedding, and none of the myriad of monsters Fil imagined might sneak up on them during his watch.

“Gotta pee,” the fighter grunted, and Fil waved him off, averting his eyes as the human staggered beyond the bushes.

He’d heard stories of the Mere of Dead Men. The name alone should be warning aplenty, yet he’d been outvoted when he suggested pushing on South to Thornhold instead of resting in the marsh. The party was drunk on their victory against the Ankheg, a beast none of them had seen before and only barely survived the fight against, getting sloshed in celebration.

The alcohol went a long way toward soothing Fil’s fears, and besides, the elf had insisted this was a safe spot to bed down.

But aside from the elf, none of them could see in the dark. Unease trickled back in, leaving Fil to jump at the smallest noise. Surely his shift was over soon? Leaves rustled in the wind, and the marsh burped and bubbled. No birdsong to smooth over the natural sounds,it was too late in the night for that. A twig cracked and Fil jumped up, hand on his rapier and heart in his throat.

How long had it been since Dalton left? Surely he should be back by now?

Fil sidled up over to his sleeping companions, debating with himself who to wake. Dalton was next to take watch, but what if he was still missing? How much time had passed? The sky was dark and cloudy, the stars hard to see. It was anyone’s guess how late it was, except for middle of the night.

The elf had pulled shrubbery over herself to keep warm in lieu of blankets. Somehow it suited her, she was all about living in harmony with nature. Fil hadn’t known her for long - any of them, really, aside from Dalton who he’d left Waterdeep with. They’d met the others in Thornhold when accepting their quest to slay the beast plaguing the Mere, having lost their previous companions in a dire battle beforehand.

(Except for Phil. Phil had done the smart thing and turned around, back to Waterdeep.)

Fil hesitated before deciding to leave her alone. She’d been hurt the worst, taking the brunt of the beast’s acid. That had been a terrible surprise, one Fil wasn’t eager to repeat. Perhaps he should pay more attention when listening to brave warriors tell their tale, that he might be better prepared in the future.

Dalton still hadn’t returned, and Fil was starting to feel nervous. But there was nothing except for the rustling of leaves, the branches of shrubbery creaking in the wind. The night was silent, with not so much as a breeze to help against the stifling heat. Fil froze in the middle of sitting back down on his stump. Slowly he turned around, meeting the elf’s wide eyes. The shrubbery had crawled over her face, covering her entirely. She wasn’t breathing.

None of his companions were. The night was silent.

The leaves kept rustling happily.

Fil did the only sensible thing he could: he ran.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, the title is ironic :P Fil is a bard, in my headcanon (my DM might have other plans - who knows?) so he talks a big game. He's also my back-up character for if Ned dies (upon learning which he will join and fail to live up to her reputation, falling into despair and confessing to being a Coward, a Liar and a Fool, and other such fun emotional things).


End file.
